Aurelia T. Evans on Villain Love

Once again, a warm welcome to Aurelia T. Evans, who’s here to talk about sexy villains this time! 😉 Check out her new book, Fortune – you won’t regret it.

Loving the Villain

I’ve been partial to villains for most of my life, discovering my affinity first for Disney villains. The obsession only grows richer and more mature as I get older.

Of course, villains in real life suck. They’re not nearly as juicy or attractive as the movies make them seem, played by magnetic and attractive actors and actresses brimming with sexual heat, seductive with voices like velvet. I’m a very aural person. Tell me Jeremy Irons purring through Scar’s lines in The Lion King doesn’t do it for you. Or Gary Oldman accessing his deeper register for Dracula in soft-core erotic Bram Stoker’s Dracula.

It doesn’t hurt that most villains are unconventional people, typed as characters who deviate from established norms. (Take the Disney villain, who is most often a deviation from sexual and gender norms.) They also tend to be INTJs, so I can relate. Don’t worry, I’m occasionally Snapish, but I’m not villainous by nature—quite the opposite. I’m way too empathetic.

There’s a freedom to fictional villainy, though. A freedom to casting aside the chains of conventionality or caring what the rest of the world thinks of you. A freedom to living within your own set of rules instead of being a hypocrite pretending to follow the ones pounded into you since birth. Villains appeal to the frustrated nihilist in me. Living within them through the fictional worlds in which I immerse myself makes up for the meekness and obedience in which I engage in the rest of my life.

The thing about villains, though, is that they’re fun for protagonists to take a vacation from reality with, but in erotic romance, their love burns hot, fierce, and unfortunately fast before it becomes too hot to handle—love transformed into something hard, cruel, perhaps obsessive lust—what was called “love’s dark pretender” in Orton’s musical version of Dracula. The villain is always vanquished, and to the hero or heroine goes the spoils.

But don’t villains ever get the love?

There’s room for that in dark erotica, sure, but what about erotic romance? Can the villain ever get the girl for a happily ever after or happily for now without compromising his villainy, the things that make him (or her) so fucking attractive to begin with? Is there a single villain dating site out there somewhere? (There’s probably a black comedy in that somewhere.)

I’ve courted erotic horror romance before. The Sanctuary trilogy had Grant in Winter Howl and Abraham in Cry Wolf. Red Queen, Gravedigger, and the Bloodbound serial all feature vampires who don’t flinch from their man-drinking natures.

But on the spectrum of good and evil, I think the demonic circus Arcanium is the closest I’ve gotten so far to giving evil people the love they’ve been lacking for so long. I don’t know whether I’d call Bell Madoc, the devious jinni who runs Arcanium, pure evil. Like I said, it’s more of a spectrum. But by human standards, Bell Madoc is definitely a darker shade of charcoal gray.

One of the things I love about a lot of villains is how gleeful they are, how little they apologize for themselves—and, as Jekyll said of Hyde, how wonderful they love their life. This isn’t, of course, true of all villains. Some are the moody, brooding, tortured sort, and I like them too. But you can’t knock someone who lives their life—immortal or not—to the fullest, someone who knows who and what he is and doesn’t flinch.

It’s been a running theme in my stories that nonhuman creatures exist according to their own morality code and shouldn’t be judged by human standards. What use have jinn or demons for human ethics? What use have vampires or werewolves for veganism? I usually make it so that they have to follow a different set of rules entirely. Whether my readers accept this or see it as rationalizing is up to them—I just write the code, I don’t determine if it’s legit.

Bell—fortune teller and illusionist of Arcanium and ancient, immortal, wish-granting jinni—has a code. He can go as cruel as he wants when granting wishes he’s bound to grant. But he’s fiercely protective of Arcanium, and the only ones allowed to hurt his cast are him—only through the granting of the wishes, and only if he’s furious enough at you to twist your wishes so much—and the Ringmaster in the act of exacting punishment. The Ringmaster is a whole other matter, the darkest demon in Arcanium and an unrepentant sadist (in the good and bad ways). He gets his story in book four, the aptly titled Ringmaster.

But Bell’s the one with the twisted imagination and far freer rein. He hasn’t created Arcanium to make a hell on earth, but purgatory is sometimes bad enough. The tension between the multiple facets of Bell, dark and kind, cruel and protective, passionate in his fury and in his love, make up not just Fortune—the first book of the Arcanium series and the one that details his relationship with Maya, the newest addition to Arcanium—but every book in Arcanium. He’s the director of this stage, the puppeteer of all the strings, the benevolent dictator and captor, and his inescapable influence permeates every inch of Arcanium.

He loves as strongly as he hates, and in Fortune, he’s set his sights on Maya. See if you could resist him in the excerpt below.

Welcome, friends, to this darkest of dances, to the cult of villain love that I think you’ll enjoy as much as I do. Welcome to wonder and amazement, to fear and corruption, to horror and romance mated in an intriguing oddity as lovely and fearsome as any Arcanium demon.

Welcome to Arcanium.

More About Fortune

fortune_800 (2)He’s the reason to be careful what you wish for.

After her jealous boyfriend makes an angry, careless wish, Maya DeLuca finds herself trapped in a traveling demonic circus and at the mercy of a devious jinni, Bell Madoc. She joins the other lost souls of Arcanium who suffer in perpetual purgatory under the weight of their wishes, all making the best of a cursed situation.

But Maya’s not even cursed because of her own wish, which means she still has three for Bell to grant.

He may be fond of her—the passion they share is as hellfire hot as it is wrong—but that doesn’t mean she’s safe from his endlessly inventive, wicked imagination. He might twist her wishes at his whim for his own pleasure. Or he might just give her what she wants…which could be even worse.


Somehow the narrow space between them had grown nonexistent. Although he’d just been enjoying an after-hours delight with his woman, the bulge of his erection nudged her stomach, hot as coals. Yet her hips canted against it, drawn to him as though his body were a spindle and she the yarn.

She slid her hands down to his chest again, spreading her fingers to cover as much of him as she could.

“What are you doing to me?” Maya whispered.

“I’m not,” Bell said. He lowered his lips to her shoulder, but then stopped himself, raising his head again, as breathless as she. “I told you, Sasha and Mikhail…after they’ve fed…and we were so close to them. And you… We already…”

This was the first time Maya had seen him almost at a loss for words.

“So the demons are doing this,” Maya murmured.

She inhaled the scent of him. His fortune teller incense had permeated his clothes, his hair, his skin. Her lips parted as though to taste the smell, and she found herself with her mouth against his chest. Not quite a kiss, but far from innocent or chaste or completely out of her control. She could pretend to herself that the action was involuntary, but she couldn’t deny how much she wanted to kiss him, to lick and taste the flesh beneath her lips.

“They intensify what you already desire,” Bell said. He crooked a finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. She watched his lips as they formed his words. “You desire me, Maya. You want me to have you, whether you think you should or not.”

“I don’t,” Maya said, but he gently drew her closer and closer, and she raised herself on her toes, gasping for breath as she begged herself to resist, to listen to her common sense. Common sense in a world untouched by all things common. She should have known better. “I won’t.”

“I desire you,” Bell confessed in a husky whisper that melted down her spine. He tilted his head and pressed his lips lightly on her cheek, lower on her jaw, just underneath, his kisses like moth wings. “I have desired you since the moment we met and I saw that you would be one of mine, part of my Arcanium. If you only knew how difficult it has been to keep you so near and not touch you like this.”

Until now. But Maya couldn’t bring herself to push him away or tell him to stop. She thought if she tried, she would only pull him even closer and beg him to continue. Whatever pall the incubus and succubus had cast over the circus, it had stripped away the lies and recriminations she’d heaped upon herself to stay away from him.

In spite of the immodest costumes, Maya thought they were far too overdressed.

“Then why haven’t you?” Maya asked. “Aren’t I bound to you? Doesn’t the wish mean I have to learn that not everything is about me? Seems like the perfect wish for creating a slave and making me do everything you say. It’s what I expected. It’s not what I wanted, but it’s what I expected.”

His hand on her neck tightened, and he almost kissed her lips. He came within a hair’s breadth, but he pulled her away from him, groaning. She curled her fingers into his shoulder, trapped between relief and regret.

“That’s not something we do here,” he said. “But I would be lying if I said I was never tempted by that wish.”

“So murder is okay, but rape’s too much?” Maya asked.

“I fulfill the wishes and the Ringmaster deals the punishments, but those are the only torments and tortures allowed in Arcanium. The rest of the time, my people are to remain untouched and unhurt against their will,” Bell said.

“Why?” Maya asked.

“Because that is how I wish it,” Bell replied.

“I thought your wishes don’t have power.”

“No. But I do,” he said. He swept an arm around her waist and brought them more tightly together. There was no way for her to deny his arousal—and no way for her to deny her own. “Is it your wish that I take you, Maya?”

She shook her head and bit her lip to keep herself from saying yes, although her hips rubbed subtly against his erection, acting independently of her will. Her mind was no longer steering this ship—if she wasn’t willing to speak her wishes aloud, her body intended to make them known. She slid her hands down his chest to his abdomen, pausing at the darker trail of hair that led into his loose trousers. It would be so easy to follow that path. Her fingers twitched.

“Good girl,” he said. He released her hips to cradle her face in his palms and advanced. She backed away to keep her balance.

It felt like a dance, a tango without the prudishness. Maya had never experienced this kind of need, as though she would explode if he didn’t kiss her in the next fifteen seconds, burst into flame and burn down to ash if he stopped touching her. She’d never known such intense lust actually existed.

“Do you want me to take you?”

“No,” she said, clutching his forearms, her legs aligned with his as he guided her toward one of the oddity’s tents.

When her back hit a wooden tent pole, he ceased his insistent push. His hands hovered over her shoulders, down her arms. His gaze crawled over her, over all the places her body wanted him to lavish her with every ounce of his inhuman intensity. But he didn’t. Evil as he was, the man had a code—a twisted, arbitrary code, but a code nonetheless.

“Beg me to take you anyway.”


Purchase for early download at Totally Bound

Fortune will be available on Amazon and other retailers from May 15 2015.

Print preorder ~ Arcanium series page ~ Blog ~ Facebook


Aurelia T. Evans is an up-and-coming erotica author with a penchant for horror and the supernatural.

She’s the twisted mind behind the were/shifter Sanctuary trilogy, demonic circus series Arcanium, and spiritual gothic urban fantasy series Meridian (publication TBD). She’s also had short stories featured in various erotic anthologies.

Aurelia presently lives in Dallas, Texas (although she doesn’t ride horses or wear hats). She loves cats and enjoys baking as much as she dislikes cooking. She’s a walker, not a runner, and she writes outside as often as possible.

Guest Post: Jennifer Denys’ BDSM Weekend

Today I’m pleased to welcome the fantastic Jennifer Denys to my blog to talk about her new release, BDSM Weekend. Welcome, Jennifer!

BDSM Weekend

Why set your story in an English country manor?

*laugh* Do you realise how many double entendres you can get from an English stately homes? In my story a riding crop is used in the stables – but not on the horses! A private tutorial is undertaken in the ‘Master’s Study’. A swing in the garden is part of a group activity – but there are no children in sight. And a fabulous ball takes place in the ballroom – with the emphasis on a different type of ‘balls’, to name but a few.

Are you going to do more stories set in Lindsey Park Manor?

Oh yes, as there is a secondary story that is going to ‘arc’ throughout the rest of the series – but I can’t say any more as it relates to a surprise discovery by the main characters in the first book.

Is it a real stately home?

Nope, just based on every one I’ve ever visited (and I watched Downton Abbey VERY closely in the last series!). But it is set in Lincolnshire and called Lindsey Park Manor after the districts of East and West Lindsey in that county. I looked at a map and found a nice big common/forested area in one of those areas and used that as the grounds for the estate.

There’s a map in the front of the book – tell me about it.

I drew it to help me when I was writing the story – and had great fun thinking about what buildings there were likely to be around a manorial estate. When Luminosity Publishing accepted my story, I asked if it was possible to include the map in the book to enhance the story and help the reader as the characters made their way around the estate. I was delighted when they said yes – and they did a wonderful job with my original drawing.

Are there any manors in England that put on BDSM events?

*sigh* If only! If anyone is aware of any – let me know!!

Is this your first story set in England?

No – the first book in this series ‘Kink After Dinner’ was written as a short taster story for this series (Manor of Decadence) and, although it isn’t set in the Manor, it has several references to what takes place there.

What else have you got planned for future stories at Lindsey Park Manor?

Hanging from the laundry racks, role play in the servants’ quarters, feather play in the aviary, bondage from a four poster bed, spanking over a sawhorse in the carpenter’s workshop… oh, were you asking about the plot?

*wink* you’ll have to wait and see!


A weekend of BDSM activities for beginners. That was what James Shaw had booked at Lindsey Park Manor. He was now anxious about telling his wife, Caroline. In the past, they had tried out various implements at home, and were keen to take it further—even considering joining a ‘swingers’ site—but it was quite daunting doing anything with others! And then a shock awaits them on arrival in the form of James’ best friend.

As they progress through the various events—cropping in the stables, fellatio in the ballroom, and an unusual fox hunt—they have to deal with animosity, jealousy and the dropping of inhibitions, as all of them grow in their knowledge of a lifestyle which is exciting, yet challenging.

Just as the dynamics of their threesome change considerably, a further surprise awaits them at the end of the weekend.


BDSM Weekend 2“Hey man,” called James. “You’re not going, are you? I wondered if you and Caroline fancied having some action.”

Mark’s jaw dropped. He was thoroughly shocked. It took a few seconds before he could speak. “You’re kidding me?”

“If you don’t want to, it’s okay. Caroline and I discussed it earlier before the treasure hunt and decided to suggest it if we saw you, as it’s something we had considered doing with others. It’s clear you want Caroline, but might be too afraid to say, and as this weekend is about trying out new things, we thought we’d ask you,” explained James as he relaxed in his chair, stroking Caroline’s thighs. “The only stipulation is no penetration.”

“And Caroline agrees, too?” Mark’s voice was very wobbly.

She shrugged and grinned. “I’m game if you are.”

“Get your clothes off, Caro,” demanded James, pushing her off his lap.

Jumping up, she quickly undressed. Mark continued to stand there flummoxed.

“Come on, or are you scared?” Caroline moved onto the bed, lounging in a provocative pose, stroking her naked breasts.

Hell no! “Well, if you two are okay.”

Climbing onto the bed a little tentatively, Mark felt like he had been set up and they were about to jump up crying out, “April Fool.”

“Err. What shall we do?”

He looked over at James. It seemed natural to ask his advice.

“Well, since she is nude, why not suck her clit? Do that and you are on her Christmas list for life.”

Does that mean Caroline has done this before?

His friend chuckled. “Mark, your face is so expressive. No, this is our first time doing it with anyone else—at least, since we met. I just know how much she loves it. She’s as nervous as you are. It’s just that Caroline is a very good actress.”


He looked at Caroline. Her cheeks were a little flushed, either from the champagne, or because she was embarrassed, he wasn’t sure which.

“Don’t take too long, mister, or we’ll ask someone else!” She settled on the bed, opening her legs wide. If she was uncertain, she sure didn’t show it. Moving in between them, Mark stared at her gorgeous pink pussy.

Shit. I’m about to give Caroline cunnilingus!

As he hesitated she made a sound and he lifted his head wondering if she was about to tell him to go. Instead, she grabbed his hair to pull him down to her.

James demanded. “Get on with it, bro, or she’ll turn on you! Just be gentle, she had a pounding earlier today.”


He went back to the lovely pussy lips beneath him with some trepidation.

Neither of them seemed to have any problems. No one raised any concerns or protested. The only issue now was him. It was a far different proposition to steamily kissing her lips to kissing her other lips!

You’ve done this to countless other women. Caroline is no different.

Taking a deep breath, he settled down, leaning over her right leg.

“Caro, widen your legs some more, I want to see this action,” requested James from his chair.

She lifted her head and growled at her husband, startling Mark. “You bloody widen them. They are aching too much from this afternoon in the boathouse, and then running around the estate.”

“Shall I go?” Mark asked solicitously.

It was his turn to get Caroline’s full glare.

James thumped him on the back, making him jump up from the bed.

“No, you idiot. I didn’t mean you to get up. Just move over,” James requested. “Once I’ve given her a spank for her attitude, I’m going to hold her legs apart. Caro, shift around the other way.”

Mark watched as Caroline moved to lie horizontally across the bed and James stood at her head pulling his wife’s knees so they bent back to her stomach. He saw that it was easier for him that way as he could kneel at his side of the bed.

As Mark started to dip his head again, James cried out, “Hang on a moment.” After giving his wife her due punishment, James then tipped his drink until the liquid ran onto Caroline’s pussy.

“Ahh! It’s cold.”

“Stop being a pussy and open that pussy, my girl.” James laughed at his joke and lifted his glass, drinking the remainder.

Mark moved back in and ran a finger along Caroline’s glistening labia, and then raised it. Sniffing it like a connoisseur first before tasting it. “Very nice. I can taste earthiness, with a hint of lime, juniper and sex. I think I’ll go back for seconds.”

James chuckled, while Caroline demanded, “Well, get on with it then!”

“Give her another slap if you wish, Mark, she has been entirely too mouthy this evening,” declared James.

He raised his eyebrows and did as his friend suggest, eliciting an “Ow” from the woman beneath them.

“Serves you right, sweetheart. Lie back and think of England,” directed the man standing at the side.

Mark laughed as he dipped his chin and lapped at her pink lips.

When he starting nibbling her, she jerked. “Don’t do that!” he yelled in panic. “I might bite you by accident.”

“Keep still, Caro,” demanded James gruffly as he put his drink down to hold her legs back out of Mark’s way.

Her answer was to groan in frustration.

Moving in again, Mark was a little hesitant.

“Use your mouth, not your teeth,” was the suggestion from his friend. Actually, it was more of an order. James had somehow become more dominant since they arrived.

Good advice. He didn’t want to hurt Caroline, so Mark nudged in until he could locate her clit, sucking deeply.

The noise he made sucking always amused him, but Caroline’s cry as she pressed upward drowned it out. “Oh God.”

“Is that good, Caro?” asked James in a mocking tone, seeming to enjoy the show from above them.


Grinning broadly, Mark raised his head.

She responded immediately. “Nooo!”

“Don’t be impatient. I have other things to do while I’m down here.”

Pressing her thighs even further apart so he could see more clearly, Mark played with her pussy entrance, opening it between a thumb and forefinger of one hand as he inserted the index finger of the other. Pushing in, he turned his hand so he could rub the inside of her vaginal wall, knowing this was often a sensitive spot for many women.

He wasn’t expecting her to jerk upwards violently with a yell. He glanced upward at James wondering if he had done something wrong.

James chuckled. “Yep. You got the right place.”


Buy links

 Luminosity Publishing

Amazon US

Amazon UK

All Romance ebooks

Barnes & Noble


Author Bio

Jennifer is a bestselling author in various genre (BDSM, contemporary, sci-fi, paranormal, with historical and fantasy in her works in progress) with several different publishers.

An Englishwoman through and through, she lives in a beautiful historical city and is game to try most things once. She’s had a tattoo done on her calf, flew down zip wires 100 feet up in the trees, and was photographed nude by a professional photographer. All of which have taken place since she turned 50!

Many of her experiences end up in her books… but you will have to read them to find out what!

 Author website/blog:

Guest Blog: A Brand Spanking New Boxed Set with Ashe Barker

I’m happy to welcome the fabulous Ashe Barker today – it seems she has a thing for spanking and castles. 😉 Over to you, Ashe!


conqueredbrides_fullHi Amy, and thank you so much for inviting me over here today to chat about my latest release. This time I’m in brilliant company because my story, The Widow Is Mine, is part of a medieval spanking box set. The Conquered Brides Collection features stories by five erotic and spanking authors – Renee Rose, Dinah McLeod, Sue Lyndon, Korey Mae Johnson, and myself.

The action starts in central Europe, in the Middle Ages. The castle of Hohenzollern falls to an enemy army and the defeated Queen is forced to surrender. However she does so on condition that any women taken by force from the fallen castle be taken as wives. The collection follows the fortunes of five reluctant brides, and the stern knights who are determined to assert their authority, on their brides’ bare bottoms if need be. If you love the whole abduction/seduction scenario, this one’s for you.

I was invited to join the collection last summer, and I was delighted. It was a dream come true in one sense, my guilty pleasure come to life. I’ve always been a sucker for a conquering, stern lord with a soft centre. Throw in the feisty maiden and a dose of erotic spanking and I’m in my element. And to be snuggled up with a bunch of writers I admire, and whose stories I love, just put the icing on the cake for me.

Being a Brit, and a Brit who loves history, I wasn’t short of inspiration. The countryside in the UK is littered with ruined castles, and I bet I’ve been to most of them over the years. I can’t drive past a pile of crumbling stones, as my family would describe my passion, without stopping off for a poke around. Still, they’ve learned to tolerate it and both my husband and daughter have cultivated a liking for gift shops and tea rooms. I always know where to find them.

Not all castles are in ruins. This is one of my favourites, Warwick Castle, originally built by William the Conqueror in 1068 but added to over the centuries. These days it’s a major tourist attraction, but they still do the medieval jousting thing. And they serve a glorious cream tea.

I doubt Stefan, Duke of Richtenholst would have countenanced such frivolity, which sort of brings me to a question which is often on my mind as I poke around some wind-swept battlement and gaze across the miles of English countryside which these place were constructed to protect in a bye-gone age. What would their original inhabitants make of us now? Would they approve of the historical re-enactments, the excavations, the reconstructions? I like to think they would. They were practical folk back then, survival was everything.

And a great many castles have survived. Warwick Castle is as secure now as it was when the first stones were laid a thousand years ago. Quite some achievement.

Here’s the blurb …

When the castle they called home is besieged and ultimately falls, five women are captured and carried off as wives by their foes. Will they be treated as no more than the spoils of war, or can their new lords prove themselves worthy of the love and submission of their conquered brides?

The Conquered Brides is a five-book collection featuring brand-new titles from five top erotic romance authors. This collection includes:

Commanding the Princess, by Korey Mae Johnson
As the ruler of Hohenzollern Castle in name only, Susanna has watched helplessly for years as her power-hungry uncle made one enemy after another for her. One enemy stands out, and the moment she catches sight of him, Princess Susanna is certain that it will be Gerhard of Bavaria who brings her world down around her. As his army smashes through her gates, Susanna makes the only choice she has left. She surrenders herself to Gerhard, hoping to win mercy for her people, though she fears it will come at the cost of her life. But she soon learns that Gerhard has other plans for her, plans which may end with her surrendering much more than just her castle to him.

The Knight’s Seduction, by Renee Rose
Avowed to never again yield to a man’s ill-treatment, Lady Daisy stands ready to fight to the death when her castle is sacked. The imposing knight Sir Barrett has other ideas, however, and to her dismay, Daisy soon finds herself not only disarmed, but soundly spanked as well. Sir Barrett takes her as his captive bride, but when she shows real terror at the prospect of consummating their marriage, he offers her a bargain. She will offer her body to him and accept the pleasurable torments he inflicts, but he will not claim her fully until she aches for it so badly she begs him. Certain she will do no such thing, Daisy agrees, but can she resist the knight’s seduction?

The Widow Is Mine
, by Ashe Barker
Since her husband’s untimely passing, Lady Natalia has resigned herself to a quiet life as a young widow and perhaps one day as a nun. But when her adopted home is conquered by the enemy, her world is turned upside down. After he rescues her from the chaos of Hohenzollern’s fall, Duke Stefan of Richtenholst cannot imagine allowing Natalia to languish behind the walls of a convent. The duke takes Natalia home as his wife, and he quickly proves himself ready to compel her obedience when it is necessary, but can he ever truly make her his own?

Conquering Lady Claire, by Sue Lyndon
As Hohenzollern Castle falls, mayhem unfolds around Lady Claire, and her only aim is to lead as many women and children of the castle to safety as possible. In an odd turn of fortune, her courageous efforts ultimately lead to her capture by none other than Lord Galien of Minrova, the very man that her brother, a powerful duke, recently commanded to find her and claim her as his wife. Claire’s defiance is quickly overcome by means of a firm hand applied to her bare bottom, but Galien is not content merely going through the motions of a political marriage. His skilled lovemaking soon leaves his new bride begging for more, but can he conquer her heart as well?

Kidnapped and Claimed, by Dinah McLeod
When her husband’s repeated infidelities and drunken insults become too much to bear, Lady Cecily flees to her childhood home at Hohenzollern, but things quickly go from bad to worse and she is kidnapped from the castle stables only moments after her arrival. Cecily ignores her abductor’s warnings of ruin about to befall Hohenzollern and his claim that he took her from the castle only to keep her safe. She resists him every step of the way, until at last he spanks her long and hard. Despite his firm chastisement, it soon becomes clear to Cecily that her captor cares for her in a way her husband never did. But can she forgive him for stealing her from her home?

And here’s an excerpt …

Warwick CastleI know by the sound of chains clanking and metal grating that the gate has been lowered, allowing them to enter unimpeded. I turn to view the scene within the castle walls now. I am mesmerised, frozen in place as I watch our people flee in terror from the advancing army.

A movement catches my eye, in the turret on the opposite corner of the bailey. As I watch, an arrow is loosed from the narrow window to score a direct hit in the breastplate of a burly knight in the melee below. Too little, too late I fear. The knight appears unharmed, but even so by his scowl and angry shout I judge him to be less than best pleased by this assault. He heads for the entrance to the turret and I fear that last, lone archer may not survive this day either.

It’s all over. I can do no more. I am sorely tempted to curl up and hide where I am, in the hope that I can remain unnoticed. Even as that forlorn thought flutters through my head, one of the imperial guardsmen looks up and catches sight of me. He grins, a toothless leer, and nudges the ruffian beside him. I back away from the edge as they laugh and point at me. One of them makes an obscene gesture with his hand, confirmation if it were needed of what they plan for me. My courage deserts me; I turn and flee along the battlements.

I reach the first flight of stairs and hesitate. Whether to run down into the mayhem that is unfolding and hope to lose myself there, or seek to scramble back inside the keep and perhaps find a place to hide. That second option evaporates as the door from the castle bursts open and men start to pour through. Cornered, I choose the stairs. Perhaps even now I can elude the worst of this.

The two guardsmen are waiting for me at the bottom. One of them grabs me by the arm and slams me face-first against the hard stone wall.

“I saw ‘er first. You can ‘ave what’s left when I’m done.” His companion seems intent upon staking his claim.

“Bollocks. I caught ‘er. She’s mine an’ ye can wait yer turn.” A meaty hand seizes the back of my neck, the grip vicious. The soldier squeezes and I go still, rigid with fear.

“Maybe we could fuck ‘er together, ye can have the front an’ I’ll take the back. I like a nice bit of arse.”

The two soldiers discuss their vile intentions as though I was unable to hear them, as though I was just a piece of insensible meat. I do not doubt that is all I am to them. My face is flattened against the cold stone but I scream, my throat burning with the effort. My cries for help are drowned in the din all around me. Who would come to my aid in any case? I struggle as best I can but, despite desperation lending me a strength I did not know I possess, I am unable to break free of the vise-like grip on my arm or neck. Fighting by pure instinct alone I use all weapons at my disposal, though they do not amount to much. My feet, my head, my elbows. With an angry growl the ruffian spins me around and I succeed only in earning myself a vicious backhand across my face. I slam into the wall behind me before crumpling to the earth at my feet. I curl into a foetal position, waiting for the inevitable.

“What the fuck is this? Did you not hear your orders regarding the treatment of women in the castle? Mayhap I should have you nailed by your dicks to yonder door. Would that improve your hearing, I wonder?”

The harsh, stern voice rings across the bailey. Maybe rescue is at hand after all, though I don’t dare raise my eyes to look. Heavy footfalls draw near, several men by the sound of it. There is shuffling as my assailants seek to back off, to slink away.

“Find some stocks for these vermin. I’ll deal with them later.” There are sounds of a scuffle, plaintive wailing as the men who would have raped me are dragged away. A few seconds pass, then, “Get up, my lady.” The same voice, perhaps a little gentler now but still a tone that resonates with authority.

Even so, I prefer not to obey. I remain where I am.

“Can you hear me? I said, get to your feet. Now.”

I shake my head and tighten the grip of my arms around my knees. My protector has done his Christian duty, now surely he’ll have other matters to attend to. Surely he’ll move on and leave me alone. I open my eyes a crack to behold two solid feet encased in iron-plated boots, topped by muscular legs clad in fine quality leather breeches. I do not raise my eyes any further than his knees.

“My lady, look at me.” It seems he is not in any undue hurry to be off. A hand in my hair draws my head back, tipping up my chin. He’s not rough exactly, but his touch is firm. I do not resist.

“Open your eyes.”

The tone has gentled still further. I begin to think this man may not mean me harm. If he simply intended to claim me for himself by right of rank he would have no need to talk to me, much less to reassure. I hold my breath as I lift my eyelids and look at him.

Buy Links:

If you enjoyed this brief snippet you can get your hands on The Conquered Brides Collection right now from Amazon.

Amazon US

Amazon UK


Author Bio:

I’ve been an avid reader of fiction for many years, erotic and other genres. I still love reading, the hotter the better. But now I have a good excuse for my guilty pleasure – research.

I tend to draw on my own experience to lend colour, detail and realism to my plots and characters. An incident here, a chance remark there, a bizarre event or quirky character, any of these can spark a story idea.

When not writing – which is not very often these days – my time is divided between my role as resident taxi driver for my teenage daughter, and caring for a menagerie of dogs, rabbits, tortoises. And a very grumpy cockatiel.

All my books feature BDSM or spanking. I write explicit stories, always hot, but they offer far more than just sizzling sex. I like to read about complex characters, and compelling plots, so that’s what I write too. Strong, demanding alpha males are a given, often paired with women who have a lot to learn.

I love to keep in touch with readers. Here’s where you can catch up with me…











Guest Post: Aurelia T. Evans Talks Werewolves and Horror

I’m very pleased to welcome Aurelia T. Evans to my blog today – she’s all kinds of wonderful and her first Sanctuary novel, Winter Howl, is one of my absolute favourites in the erotic genre. Check out the excerpt from Cry Wolf, which is book two, at the end of the interview.


1) Tell us a little bit about yourself. What do you enjoy writing, and why?

I’m in my late twenties now and still trying to figure out what to do in life, but for the last two years or so, I made the complete and utter commitment to write as much as possible until I’m thirty. Then, it’ll probably be so engrained in me that I’ll have to continue at this pace forever, although I’d like to add a little bit of a social life in there somewhere.

In my spare spare time, I watch a lot of bad horror movies, read good horror novels, and enjoy baking—but not cooking so much. I make jewelry here and there, although my tight writing schedule has pushed that to the side lately. I also have a frappuccino addiction that I’ve been struggling with since college. It probably wouldn’t be so bad if it was just coffee.

I enjoy writing anything supernatural. I prefer to write things that can’t happen to the things that could. I figure if I want to experience something that’s possible in real life, I could do that myself rather than write about it. Also, writing from a supernatural angle tends to help you address the real life issues in roundabout and far more entertaining ways.

2) Your Sanctuary series is set in/around a no-kill dog shelter. Are dogs close to your heart, and do you own any?

You know, it’s a funny thing. I’m a cat lady to the bone, which is why cats also trail around the sanctuary and why Kelly from Cry Wolf has a meaningful relationship with a cat. However, I do like dogs, especially larger dogs, and of my family’s pets, one of them is a dog. We call her Padfoot.

It’s kind of like I’m a vampire girl, but I’ve been writing about werewolves. Go figure.

The Sanctuary trilogy was inspired by the Cat House in the Kings, with a twist of Cesar Millan.

3) What is it about werewolves that makes you want to write about them?

I have a theory that vampires and werewolves are supernatural palliatives for control freaks.

When you’re drawn to vampires, either through reading or writing, it’s because you want to cede control to someone else. The vampire is cold, in control, and usually has some kind of mesmerism to take control from you in order to give you the oblivion and pleasure of his or her bite. You’re not responsible, you’re just responsive. It’s very liberating, in its own way.

When you’re drawn to werewolves, it’s because you want to lose control, which is also liberating. The werewolf is hot, wild, and they just let loose, letting everything out and doing whatever they want to do, allowing themselves to feel pleasure in any way they like without shame.

I’m double the control freak, because I write about both.

4) The first book in the series, Winter Howl, was pretty dark in places. Will Cry Wolf go down similar roads?

WHOh, absolutely. I don’t think I can write stories without going down the dark paths. I’m a horror writer at heart, and even when the story I write isn’t specifically of the horror genre, it comes out nonetheless.

When you write about supernatural predators who consider humans to be prey, it’s hard not to sink into the moral shadows. So even though Kelly and Malcolm don’t eat people, the other werewolves in the story have no problem with it, and there’s some tension there, because they’re likable people. Plus, there’s a charismatic cult leader who’s also a witch as powerful as Kelly. That rarely ends well.

5) How similar are your protagonists for the two books? Which character did you enjoy writing about more?

At first glance, Renee from Winter Howl and Kelly from Cry Wolf are completely different people. Renee is a small, shy, timid young woman with agoraphobia and some other mental issues, although she has much more confidence inside her dog sanctuary than outside of it. Kelly, on the other hand, has buckets of sexual confidence, no issues with nudity, and has quite a pain fetish. That’s before you add the fact that she’s a werewolf, whereas Renee is human—plus Kelly is also a damn powerful elemental witch with additional prophetic and psychic abilities.

In a line, Renee feels she has no power and Kelly feels she has too much.

However, they’re two sides of the same coin, which is why Kelly makes for a  good middle book before ending the trilogy on Renee. Both of them are control freaks themselves to the point, perhaps, of pathology. Renee needs absolute control or else she panics, which accounts for the bulk of her agoraphobia and how important Grant was to her in making her lose control back in Winter Howl. But Kelly needs absolute control to keep her magic reined in, because otherwise she could really hurt people. She compares herself to a bomb, that’s how bad it is. And in her case, being a werewolf actual helped her gain control over her magic, because the wolf is strong enough to hold it.

So in the end, they’re really more alike than they realize, which is why they get along so well. Renee’s harmless crush on Kelly probably accounts for some of it. I think if I had to pick which one I liked writing better, Kelly was an amazing character to slip into. I think I have too much in common with Renee to get as much joy out of writing her, although I wouldn’t write her if I didn’t enjoy writing her. Kelly was just so much freer, so even the writing was less restrained.

6) What are you working on now?

That’s a loaded question. Everything?

I have a demonic circus series in the works, which is the result of my experiment to see whether erotic horror romance was possible. I think I succeeded, but it’s…well, the darkness runs a lot darker and deeper than anything I’ve written so far.

At the present, I’m working on another dark vampire serial that’s the latest incarnation of a story I’ve been writing since I was ten. Cross your fingers that this is the final one.

And once I finish the serial, I’ll start editing my urban fantasy, gothic erotic romance novel with gargoyles, demons, and stone angels. I plan to write in that world again, so maybe it’s a series? I’m not sure yet.

Then, through to this summer I’ll be working on putting out my first self-published novel, a dark supernatural erotic novel with a girl enslaved into a geek guy’s fantasy. I’m more terrified by the self-publishing process than the magical villain at the moment.

After that, who knows?

Thanks so much for having me, Amy! It’s been a pleasure.

 Cry Wolf

Cry WolfAs a werewolf and witch, Kelly belongs to neither pack nor coven, making her a perfect addition to the ragtag collection of dogs, humans and canine shapeshifters at the Chambers Dog Sanctuary.

After recently being transformed against his will, Malcolm—one of the Sanctuary residents—wants nothing more than to shed his werewolf skin and return to his shapeshifter pack. Kelly tries to help him accept his new wolf nature, but then some of the shapeshifters discover Salvation, an organization that claims to cure magical hybrids. Kelly has long since made peace with lycanthropy, which tempers her volatile magic, but when Malcolm begs Kelly to accompany him for one last attempt to resume his old life, she agrees for his sake.

Upon arriving at Salvation, however, the already shaky balance of her life becomes even more tenuous, forcing Kelly to decide which part of herself, wolf or witch, she loves—or fears—more.


Surprised laughter bubbled up out of her, but it was cut short by Malcolm’s tongue on the pulse point under her ear.

“I’m so many different kinds of hungry right now,” he murmured. “I’m not sure which is which.”

Kelly slid her hands up his arms and encircled his shoulders. “You really want to apologize to me?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, smiling against her collarbone.

“Anything I want?” she asked after a little hesitation.

Malcolm pulled back, a line between his eyebrows, but he nodded. “Anything you want. Although now I’m nervous.”

“You should be.” A growl purred through her in warning. “It may not be like anything you’ve had before, but I promise it’ll be worth it in the end.”

“Really nervous,” he added.

“Before we start,” Kelly said, nudging him back to the bedroom, “did I get the right vibe that you sometimes don’t have sex with just Ki?”

Malcolm actually blushed, deep red over his cheeks and ears. It was adorable.

“What?” Kelly poked him in the ribs.

“What exactly are you asking? Because it hasn’t been anything more than just…” He couldn’t even say it, just brought her hand to his cock, which had begun to show interest. “But before I came to the sanctuary, I… I’m not sure I want to talk about it.”

Kelly stroked him a few times, enjoying the weight of him in her hand. She had to release him, but she would have plenty of fun with it soon.

“That’s okay, you don’t have to tell me anything,” Kelly said, patting his cheek. “I just wanted to know if you’d already experienced what I have planned for you.”

Malcolm’s eyes went wide. “Are you serious?”

Kelly raised her hand, palm facing his chest, and pushed him flying onto the bed.

His brow furrowed. “I don’t know.”

“Honey, I don’t do safe words. If you want me to stop, you tell me to stop. But you owe me an apology.” Kelly stalked him from halfway down the trailer hall and put her hands on the door frame. “Do you trust me?”

Malcolm craned his neck to stare at her in the evening light coming through the window and the skylight. She’d kept the blinds open. Anyone could look in and see them in all their naked glory in a world that wasn’t quite as free as the sanctuary.

“Yes,” he replied breathlessly. “I trust you.” He smiled to show that he wasn’t downright terrified. “Do your worst.”

“Oh, you don’t want my worst. This isn’t anywhere near that,” Kelly said, entering the bedroom. One step brought her shins against the bed.

She snapped her fingers and the bottom drawer under her small closet opened. Metal restraints flew out to wrap around his wrists and ankles, connecting to the four sides of the bed frame that had been altered in order to accommodate them.

If anyone in her original wolf pack had sneaked into her trailer and opened the toy drawer, they would have assumed that the restraints were for David to tie her down. Naturally, a big, bad alpha like David would want Kelly at his mercy, although real bondage was pretty useless on Kelly, since she could pull them apart with her mind.

Back in those days, though, Kelly would close the blinds and strap David down. That had been their secret, and David might have tried to kill her if she had shared that with the pack—not that she’d ever had a desire to.

Kelly flexed her fingers as she imagined doing some of those things again. There had been a lot of things wrong with her relationship with David. This hadn’t been one of them.

Malcolm lay back, trying to appear calm. Kelly climbed on the bed and crawled between his spread-eagled legs. She ran her fingers through the light fur on his thighs and smiled when the muscles twitched.

“Relax, honey,” she purred, smoothing her hand up his abdomen and over his chest before leaning down to take his lower lip between her teeth.

Cry Wolf is currently available on pre-release at a discount at Totally Bound, in all ebook formats. The book will be released to other online retailers (Amazon, Barnes & Noble, etc.) on 28th March.

About the Author

Aurelia T. Evans is a hopefully up-and-coming erotica write with a penchant for horror and the supernatural. She’s had short stories featured in Amber Dawn’s Fist of the Spider Woman, Kristina Wright’s Fairy Tale Lust, and Mitzi Szereto’s Thrones of Desire. Her first novel about shapeshifters, werewolves, and the woman who loves them, Winter Howl, debuted November 2012. The sequel, Cry Wolf, was released February 2014 at Totally Bound, and will be available in wide release on March 28, 2014.



Melting Mondays – Naomi Bellina’s Dream Vacation

A huge welcome to Naomi Bellina this Melting Monday – thanks for coming over, Naomi!

My Dream Vacation

NaomiBellina Headshot All the hustle and bustle of the holidays can get overwhelming. We stay up too late, run too many errands, and burn out our batteries. A nice, long peaceful stay at a spa sounds pretty good right now! When writing Out of the Ordinary, my characters spend some time at a spa, so I thought about that environment a lot.  I let my imagination run wild one day and came up with my dream vacation.

I’m not sure exactly where this blissful place is, but I know I’m at a resort, somewhere in the mountains. All the meals are healthy, there are not a lot of crowds, and the people I talk to are pleasant and fun. The weather is perfect, sunny most days, a rain shower or two when I’m indoors to enjoy it, cool and crisp in the evening.

I arrive at my destination all alone. That’s right, the honey is not with me. Oh Naomi, you say, that’s kind of harsh, but come on. You know how nice it is to spend some time alone, with no one to think about but your little old self. You, you, you, it’s all about you. Don’t worry, my love gets to join me in paradise later, but for now, I’m on my own.

I’m tired from the long flight, so I have a soak in my garden tub. There is a selection of bath salts to choose from, in a variety of scents. All the products are organic which is important to me, because I have super sensitive skin. After my soak, I take a nap. I order room service since I still crave peace and quiet. Traveling frazzles my nerve, and I’ve been in a plane for awhile since I know my dream spot is a destination far from home. I read a bit, or watch a movie, then sleep.

The next day, I wake up and attend a yoga class, eat a healthy breakfast, then go for a hike in the hills. I love hills, mountains, and rocks, and don’t get to see these in Florida. I’m in heaven! Of course, I overdue it on the hike, so when I return, after a quick shower and a healthy lunch, I get a massage. The late afternoon, early evening activity is something fun and crafty. I love working with clay, paper, beads, metal, you name it. Any project will make me happy. Another night alone, with a lavender scented bath, and I’m starting to feel good.

After morning yoga and a healthy breakfast, I go for a horseback ride, then my honey arrives! See, I told you he would get to come play with me. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and now that I’m totally relaxed, I welcome him with open arms. We both get a massage, and I get a facial too. He’s tired and takes a nap, and after my services, I join him. The nap turns into fun and love, then I’m drowsy and ready to snooze. He sleeps a bit more, than wanders the grounds, because he likes to explore. We both have a swim in the pool, then dinner, reading and television in bed, along with more hot lovin’.

Yoga the next morning, we hike together, then hop in a helicopter and view an active volcano. The afternoons consist of  lunch, reading, nap, art projects for me, he gets to watch sports and join a martial arts class. Dinner, a walk in the chilly air under a sky full of stars, or a few drinks and a good band, or we watch a movie on the big screen for evening entertainment. The next few days we have a cooking class together, we visit a wildlife preserve, more art and marital art classes, he gets to ride several kinds of motorcycles, and we take a long ride together and eat lunch at a place with a spectacular view at the top of a mountain.

It’s finally time to leave, and we fly home together. Wow, what a great vacation! It has all my favorite things. Lots of relaxing time to enjoy books, movies, napping, sex, good healthy food, exercise, and great scenery. One day, I hope to make this vacation a reality, two to three times a year.

How about you? Do you have a dream destination in mind, or something you would love to do on vacation?  I’d love to hear from you. Enjoy this excerpt, and happy holidays to you!

Excerpt from Out of the Ordinary

Out of the Ordinary coverEsme began to rub Star’s neck, and Star sighed. Esme’s strong hands felt good on Star’s tight muscles. Slipping away to la-la land, Star remembered she had a mission and pulled her mind back to the present.

“So, tell me about this party. Is everybody I saw at the dinner table a guest? Where do they come from?”

“Yes, they’re all guests from our home planet, Kastra. King Gaius likes to have company at his parties so he invites—” Esme suddenly stopped. “I’m not supposed to talk to you. I’m sorry. Here, I forgot to turn on the music. You just listen and relax. I’m going to apply a clay facial mask. We’ll let it set while I work on your legs and feet. It will help smooth out those blotches in your complexion.”

Esme flipped a switch and a melodic, pleasing tune began to play.

Do I have a blotchy complexion? Esme needs to talk to those diplomatic relations people. Star knew she would get nothing more from the young pixie, so she let herself drift off and enjoy the experience.

Her mind wandered to picture Adam standing naked near the hot tub. She didn’t want to think about that particular scene, she needed to focus on a way to get out of there. But her brain had ideas of its own, and naked Adam would not disappear. It hardly seemed worth the effort to try to think of something else, and he really did look quite divine, so she let her imagination roam.

In her fantasy, she rose from the tub to greet him. She had the body of an Olympic athlete, and hair from a shampoo commercial. Her skin was certainly not blotchy and her teeth were white as pearls. There were no annoying pixies around for miles.

They hugged, a firm, loving embrace. Both of their bodies were warm. Adam’s hands travelled down her back and caressed her butt, squeezing her firm cheeks. She explored his body, touching every inch of delicious skin she could reach. His cock grew hard and pressed into her stomach and moisture formed between her legs. She stood on her toes and rubbed her pussy against his cock, eliciting a deep moan from him.

Their lips met and Star and Adam kissed, not one of those tender, sweet butterfly kisses that drove her crazy with wanting more. This was a hungry, passionate invasion, both of them tasting each other’s mouth, him biting her lower lip to just this side of pain. The kind of kiss that set her mouth on fire and almost left bruises, the kind Star loved.

His hand stroked her breast, cupping and squeezing the firm flesh, and just as he lowered his head to suck her aching nipple, Star felt something cold and wet on her cheek. Is that Adam’s tongue? She jumped.

“Sorry to startle you. The clay is a little cool at first, but it will warm up,” Esme said.

With a sigh, Star’s allowed her mind to drift back to reality. Damn, it had been a good long time since she’d had a daydream like that. Her pussy was wet and wanting, and raw desire throbbed through her body. Even though she was scared, something about this place had awakened her senses. She actually felt more alive and vibrant than she had in a long time. As annoying as Adam was, a deep desire for him coursed through her. His teasing manner in the hot tub had been for her benefit, she was sure, to help her relax and his words had been sincere—he really did think she had a nice body.

She would have smiled with pleasure had her face not been solidified by the clay mask. This sensation was a welcome change of pace from the emptiness that had greeted her each day for the past year, and Adam was certainly a delightful break from the men she knew. He was strong and seemed smart, without being a bore. His sense of humour, well, anyone who could keep his wits about him under these circumstances was extraordinary. She found she looked forward to their next encounter, clothed or not.

Out of the Ordinary buy links:

All Romance eBooks

Naomi Bellina: Adventurous erotic romance to tickle your fancy and unleash your libido…!/TheGoddessNaomi

Melting Mondays: Ranae Rose eroticises ‘Wuthering Heights’

My Monday guest today is Ranae Rose, whose erotic revamp of Wuthering Heights for Total-E-Bound’s Clandestine Classics line is out today. Congratulations, and happy release day, Ranae!

* * * * *

Wuthering Heights – Why I Wrote a BDSM Romance Edition

Today is release day for Wuthering Heights – my edition of the beloved literary classic. I revisited Wuthering Heights (one of my favorite books of all time) for the Clandestine Classics imprint (by Total-E-Bound Publishing) and wove an enhanced BDSM erotic romance storyline into the original novel.

I guess that may sound a little shocking at first – at least, if the general media reaction is any indication, it does. But to me, the idea seemed perfectly natural from the get-go. I’ve been a diehard fan of Heathcliff and Cathy for quite a while, and have always dreamed of something more for them – who hasn’t? It’s such a tragic story, and despite Heathcliff and Cathy’s considerable faults, I could never help but admire their passion and want them to be together anyway.

Now, I’m not saying I changed the storyline of the original – I didn’t. In fact, my edition of Wuthering Heights contains each word of the original, plus an enhanced erotic romance storyline woven in, blended with the rest. And as soon as Claire (CEO of Total-E-Bound) approached me about the line, I thought ‘BDSM Wuthering Heights’.

My intent in revisiting Wuthering Heights was to capture the spirit of Heathcliff and Cathy’s romance and to explore that dimension of the story further. It’s my opinion that BDSM practices (such as the bondage and spanking I included) do just that. It was important to me to keep everything in character, and I believe that all the sexual encounters I portrayed are in tune with the dynamics of Heathcliff and Cathy’s relationship (which is anything but a typical relationship, as anyone who’s read WH knows). I wouldn’t have included the bondage or spanking if I hadn’t thought it perfectly in tune with the characters; Wuthering Heights is too precious to me to stray away from the true spirit and dynamics of the story. Heathcliff and Cathy are extreme characters who live and die ensnared by an extreme sort of love; I don’t think the sexual practices I’ve written about are overly-extreme for them at all. In fact, I think readers will be surprised by the tenderness of their ‘BDSM’ sexual relationship. And I’ve included an excerpt in this post so you can have a taste of Heathcliff and Cathy’s new adventures – or rather, the adventures that always seemed to be simmering beneath the surface, just out of reach … perhaps written down on some hidden pages.

Heathcliff must have been similarly afflicted, for he glimpsed my departure and, unbeknownst to me, followed me out of doors. He made his presence known in the stable, giving me a terrible fright by striding into the tack room and laying a hand on my shoulder just as I was reaching for my saddle. “It’s too dark to ride,” he told me. “There’s only a sliver of a moon tonight—try it and you shall cause your mare to break her leg out on the marsh.”

He stepped in front of me and my ire rose—to think that he should try to prevent me from relieving my torturous feelings when it was he who caused them in the first place! I told him that I would not ride my mare out onto the marsh, for I was not a fool, and demanded that he remove himself from my way, or else saddle my horse for me.

He had the gall to refuse, and promised that we would ride together in the morning, when our journey would be made safe by the light of the sun.

I assured him that I could not possibly pass the night in my current state, and that I desired escape from the house and the distress he had caused me.

He said he would stay with me till morning, and that we might weather the darkness together. Ignorant of the true meaning of his words and the potential of his suggestion, I succumbed to a rather spectacular fit of temper, furious that he should continue to detain me. Using my fingernails as a cat uses its claws, I struck his chest and shoulders, attempting to make him stumble or shrink away from me so that I might slip by him and seize my saddle.

He did neither, and instead stood as steadfastly as a stone wall, unyielding to my vicious efforts to move him. After a few moments, I began to feel ashamed, for I could see that I had marred his chest with a red furrow that stood out just above the collar of his shirt, which was the only garment he wore on the upper half of his body. At that moment, I made up my mind to abandon him and the saddle, silently vowing that I would ride my mare bareback, under the light of the moon. When I turned on my heel and attempted to escape the tack room, Heathcliff seized me around the waist and pulled me against himself, wrapping me so tightly in his arms that I might as well have been bound by heavy chains.

I shouted for him to release me, but as I struggled, something curious happened—my skin warmed and my every nerve seemed to hum with excitement, as if suddenly brought to a new kind of life by the intimate position I shared with Heathcliff. I continued to writhe, but the friction my motions created became a sort of pleasure in and of itself, and I knew that it had affected a change in Heathcliff too, for I heard him groan and felt him shift against me, pressing something hard against the small of my back. This development sent a shiver of exhilaration down my spine, though at the time, I still possessed only the vaguest of ideas as to what would occur next. Heathcliff’s intent became clearer when he laid his hands on my shoulders and turned me about so that I faced him. I’d scarcely met his eyes when he pressed me against a wooden beam, pinning me against it with the weight of his own body. The rigid rod tenting the front of his trousers now pushed against my belly, caught betwixt our bodies—a fact I could not help but be aware of. I acknowledged its presence with a breathless gasp, and a thrill of expectation went through me when his dark eyes met mine. I had looked into them many a time, and yet, never had I seen the gleam I saw then, the intensity of which was the cause of my excitement.

“Listen to me, Cathy,” he said. “It’s only the two of us. You must listen to me when it’s only us—you may command me in the others’ presence, but that shall stop when we are alone together.”

I possessed neither the power nor the will to contradict him—not when his gaze held me captive more effectively than his grip, and his body felt so powerful against mine. We had stolen kisses before, and the sensations I’d felt then were much like the ones I experienced as he held me there, his eyes full of promise—promise of what, exactly, I had yet to discover.

As I stilled and said nothing, a look of satisfaction flashed in his eyes. I expected a kiss, or perhaps a tender caress, and was much perplexed when he broached an unexpected and less pleasant subject.”Do you remember when I first came to Wuthering Heights, years ago?” As he spoke, he plucked a familiar instrument from the wall—a riding crop.

“Yes,” I replied, somewhat breathlessly. “Of course.”

“Ah,” he said, leaning close to me again, so that his breath warmed my lips when he breathed, “Then you remember spitting at me because you were angry that your father brought me home to you instead of a new riding crop.” He raised the crop he gripped in his hand so that the flap of leather on the end touched my face. Ever so slowly, he stroked my cheek, and the touch of leather against my skin was as gentle as a breeze. I can’t yet reason why, but I quivered with elation, even as guilt assailed me, conjured by the memory he had invoked.

“I was but a child,” I protested, “and that was a dozen years ago.”

“You spat at me and then turned your back. You refused to allow me into your bed,” he reminded me.

“You have spent many nights in my bed since,” I said.

“Years ago,” he replied. “A habit that we quit when we left childhood behind. I have given it some thought and I rather think that it’s a practice we should take up again.”

I’ll swear my heart skipped a beat at the notion of sharing my bed with Heathcliff, and what that would mean now that we were older, our relationship having progressed irrevocably beyond our former bond as childhood playmates. I exhaled as he continued to stroke my cheek with the crop, a rhythmic motion that seemed to promise much more than gentle caresses. “That crop,” I worked up the courage to ask, “what do you intend to do with it?”

“Much,” he replied.

I entreated him to tell me more.

“I mean to drive out every last bit of your worries and your defiance, until I am all you can think about, and my name is the only thing you can shout,” he said. “Would you like that?”

I could not deny that his words thrilled me, and told him as much.

He responded by releasing me, leaving me to languish against the beam, eyeing the crop he wielded and the bulge that strained against his trousers. Seeing him in such a state roused something inside me, and inspired in me an admiration that stole my breath away. I felt as if I were seeing Heathcliff not as I had always known him, but as I had always been meant to know him. As I regarded him I considered his words, and at first I thought to protest, but he quelled those intentions with a command I could not deny. “Bend over that saddle,” he said, in a tone so firm that I took a step forward, ignoring my weak knees as I made my way towards the very object that I had been attempting to claw my way to only minutes ago.

The saddle rested on a simple wooden rack that extended from the wall, and was at a level that allowed me to bend over it quite easily—an action which brought a pleased expression to Heathcliff’s face. My heart thrilled at the sight of his satisfaction, and I wriggled anxiously against the leather as I awaited the fulfilment of his lofty promise.

Next, he used a long set of driving reins as one might use a rope, securing my wrists and ankles with a couple of knots, so that I was tied fast to the saddle in a way that would prevent me from rising or slipping. Perhaps it is strange, but this caused me to feel secure, rather than trapped—the knots were comforting because he had tied them. When that was done, he raised my skirt and petticoats above my waist and lowered my drawers, exposing my buttocks. I fear I cannot put into words the excitement I felt when his hand brushed across my bare skin—it was the first time he had touched me there, and I had done so sparingly on a few occasions when my own natural curiosity and daring thoughts of Heathcliff had conspired to overwhelm me. I was soon glad of the restraints he’d created for me, for when he caressed my bottom one last time and then rose at last, I trembled with anticipation and might have fallen if he hadn’t secured me.

“My Cathy,” he said as he stood, surveying me.

This endearment only increased my tremors, and my gaze settled again upon the instrument he held in one hand. He gripped it firmly, his hand much more steady than my own quivering limbs as he stepped behind me.”Count each strike of my whip, Cathy,” he instructed. “Cry out if you wish, cry my name—anything you desire, but don’t forget to count, unless you wish me to stop. I shall continue as long as you persist counting. And if anytime you should stop counting, I shall stop too.”

* * * * *

Ranae Rose is the bestselling author of over a dozen paranormal, historical and contemporary romances, all of them delightfully steamy. She lives on the US East Coast with her family, dogs and horses and spends most of her time letting her very active imagination run wild, penning her next story. When she’s not writing, she can usually be found in the saddle or behind a good book with a cup of tea.

For more information on Wuthering Heights and Ranae’s many other erotic romances, visit:

Connect with Ranae on Twitter: @Ranae_Rose

Friend Ranae on Facebook:

Guest Blog: The Mettle of a Master in BDSM Erotica

I’m hosting Amber Rose Thompson on my blog today – welcome, Amber Rose! 🙂

* * * *

The Mettle of a Master in BDSM Erotica

What’s the fun if it is too simple? Sure if a man or woman falls at a Master’s feet ready to lick boots, take flogging, and strip wherever and whenever, a master may feel he/she is in heaven. But this doesn’t tell us a thing about the Master and whether they deserve the title.

Take instead an arrogant, stubborn, self-righteous individual with latent submissive tendencies percolating like bottled up soda beneath the surface of the unconscious, now there is potential for spit fire takedowns and power struggles. If the master can subdue this wild creature then the title is deserved, and the reader is in for a treat.

Between the pages of the book, crumpled sheets, reddened flesh, unseemly language, and molten tempers will be unleashed. The book can then be rated on BDSM harshness and orgasmic stimulation. Good BDSM erotica is all about Power differential and agreed upon exploitation.


Amber Rose


I write under the pen name Amber Rose Thompson. Why don’t I use my legal name? Well, I don’t want to be fired from my day job, now do I? By day, I am a public librarian working in the metropolis of New York City. I write the kinds of books that will never be offered at my library or even considered. And that is why I use a fictitious name. It is a bit sad to promote reading by day and hide my own writing while doing so. Before work, on lunch, break, and after work I write hot, erotic tales that I hope will make readers squirm and fan themselves. My one major hurdle in writing is my kitten who believes laps are for sleeping, not laptops. With this hindrance, I often write one-handed, and not for the reason your dirty mind is thinking. I hold the laptop with one hand and type with the other so my little bundle of fur can purr in her sleep. My muse for writing is my lovely and amazing partner who I’ve been married to for sixteen wonderful years. We all must get our inspiration from somewhere after all. My marriage is an interesting one, while we have been married for awhile, we actually have two marriage certificates. You see part way through our marriage we both transitioned to the opposite gender. I told you my marriage was different. I am a trans man writing under a female name, talk about gender bending and mental games.


Primal Needs
Sanya’s Nights
Pushing Boundaries
Scheherezade’s Gift
Taken Bi Love
Tied To Passion

Social Media Links

Twitter @BDSMErotica
Facebook here!


“Amber Rose Thompson is an excellent writer.” – Laura Antoniou, author, The Marketplace Series

Scheherezade’s Gift: Beth’s Wild and Crazy Book Reviews- “Wow talk about a hot sexy book…who knew going to the bookstore so often would get you a magical book that gets you laid by the man of your dreams.”

Tied To Passion: Sizzling Hot Books Reviews- “Tied to Passion is not for the faint of hearted…I would recommend Tied to Passion to those who enjoy erotic romances…”

Tied To Passion: BDSM Book Reviews- “ Based on sex scene alone, I would have rated this book a 4 paddle because it made me want to jump my husband after reading it….I recommend this book for BDSM light readers who like to read about a bringing an innocent to the dark side.”

Victoria Blisse Shares a Bite of ‘Tasty Italian’

Today Victoria Blisse shares a bite from her latest short story – best served hot! Thanks for coming over, Victoria!


Like a good meal…

…the anticipation adds to the final experience. So I’m going to share with you a sneak peek into my next lust bite release called Tasty Italian.

I love Italian food, don’t you? Pizza, pasta, basil and garlic and big, bold tastes that comfort.   So you can understand why I ended up writing a story based in an Italian Restaurant.

Here’s the blurb:

She wanted pizza, she got love.

Fiona was bored with her life but she didn’t realise that simply deciding to visit the local Italian restaurant for dinner one night would change it forever. When she laid eyes on the fit, young Italian waiter she fell instantly in lust. Carlo returned that ardour but how could their relationship develop when he had to move back to his home in Italy?

Tasty Italian is out on Monday the 19th September. And here’s a delicious little excerpt to whet your appetite:

“I shall look forward to it. Well, maybe I’ll see you next Friday, Carlo.”

“Oh, you for sure will.” He unlocked the door. “I always work here in the evenings while I live with Roberto. It’s to pay my rent, you see.”

“All right then, I’ll see you next week.”

She shuffled forwards anticipating Carlo opening the door, but he stepped back. They crashed into one another.

“Oh, sorry.” He grabbed Fiona around the tops of her arms. “I’m so clumsy.”

“No, no, it was my fault,” she replied, holding her hands in fists as she fought the urge to reach around his waist and pull him close. “I’m sorry.”

“An accident.” He grinned, then leant forward to kiss one cheek then the other.

Fiona’s skin blossomed with heat with each touch of his lips, her nostrils flared to take in his spicy, male scent and her hands trembled with withheld desire.

“See you next week, Fiona.”

She expected him to pull back away but he didn’t. His gaze focused on her lips and split seconds before he did it she realised he was going to kiss her properly. She would have panicked but she didn’t have the time so she just accepted the press of his lips against hers.

If she had thought she felt hot before she was greatly mistaken. When his lips touched hers she felt as if her body was on fire. She pressed her lips harder against his to ease the burning in her veins but a moment later he pulled back just as she expected the kiss to deepen.

“Bye,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and her throat dry. She thought that maybe Italians did two cheek kisses and a snog as a regular thing.

Thank you for hosting me today, Amy, I’ve had a lovely time!

R. A. Padmos Introduces Daniël Borghart

Today I’m welcoming R. A. Padmos to my blog, to introduce her hottie, Daniël Borghart. Thanks for coming over!


Name: Daniël Borghart

Strictly speaking, he’s not the protagonist of Ravages, Steve Gavan is, but we get to know him pretty well.

Age: 23

Nationality: Dutch

Profession: Professional football (soccer) player at a (fictional) English Premier League club, where he plays as a central defender.

Appearance: Tall (1,88 m) somewhat skinny when not in training, dark-blond/brownish hair that’s kind of hard to keep in control, grey/blue eyes, freckles. Looks younger than his actual age.

Sexual orientation: Gay.

Distinguishing marks: Has two tattoos on his arms, one with mors vincit omnia (death always wins) and another with: Cor aut mors (the heart or death).

Temperament: At the start of the story, Daniël is a young, ambitious, carefree, intelligent guy, who totally loves to have sex with Steve. After the attack on Steve, he has no choice but to either continue his silence or grow up very quickly.

There is this deep anger inside of him, without him ever becoming aggressive (except on the football pitch) Not just because of what happened to Steve, but also because he realises he was, with all good intentions, both a victim and part of the problem.

Protagonist’s impression of him/her:

The boy, for what Steve saw was a boy in all the word implies, had simply been one of the items on manager Arnaud Degaré’s shopping list.

He tasted like boy turning into man, like sweets and beer.

Memorable quote: (To Steve) “You see, I’m not such a perfect guy. I wanted it all, playing football and having you.”

(To the press)  “I’m here because I won’t accept that the man I love is getting dragged through the mud while fighting for his life. I defend him because he can’t.

(To Steve) “You did nothing worse than what was taught to us: to be second class people with second class relationships. Oh, it’s perfectly normal nowadays, society has become all modern and open; it’s just not me or any other footballer.”

(To Steve) “If I would be allowed, I would kill them. They don’t even have to suffer; I’ve seen enough of that in the past months. But I’m not, and so I have to leave them behind. But how do I do that?”

(About Steve) “I had managed the first 23 years without him just fine and from one moment to another, it stopped being an option.”

“His body has been my home during all these years. My anchor. And I, by whatever undeserved miracle, was his all.”

Read more: Ravages, by R. A. Padmos, has been published in e-book format by Manifold Press.

Blurb: Steve Gavan and Daniël Borghart are professional football players for Kinbridge Town – and also secret lovers.  All that changes, however, when Steve innocently wanders into a city park and falls victim to a vicious gang of queer-bashers who beat him within an inch of his life.  After that there are no secrets any more – and it’s a very long road back, for both of them, from there…

Lisabet Sarai Introduces Zeke Chambers

Today I’m letting the lovely Lisabet Sarai take the spotlight to introduce one of her hotties from her forthcoming Wild About That Thing: Zeke Chambers. Welcome, Lisabet!

Name: Zeke (Ezekiel) Chambers

Age: Forty one.

Appearance: Zeke is a solid, muscular guy, over six feet tall, with the build of a football player. His straw-blonde hair tends to fall into his blue eyes. He has a full beard, sensual lips, and an open, easy-going smile. His fair complexion means he blushes easily; he also gets red-faced when someone arouses his temper. Overall he gives a bearish impression.

Zeke is a blues guitarist and vocalist from Mississippi. When he’s performing at Ruby’s Crossroads Blues Club, he tends to wear tight jeans that show off his powerful physique. He exudes a quiet masculinity, self-confident rather than macho.

Sexual orientation:  Enthusiastically heterosexual. However, he’s not homophobic. He has no problem getting involved in a menage with Ruby and  Remy.  Continue reading